


Arthur's Snake

by KittyPhoenix12_xx



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Arthur actually has friends!, Arthur and his snake should be canon, Arthur is a wizard, Harry needs to apologise., Hogwarts Fifth Year, Hogwarts would never of exisited if England wasn't there., I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, It was a dream I had..., Like seriously., Salazar and Arthur are actually adorable together., Silly harry, i'll stop now., okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2019-01-06 13:05:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12211872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyPhoenix12_xx/pseuds/KittyPhoenix12_xx
Summary: Arthur found out three years to late that someone killed his snake.





	Arthur's Snake

**Author's Note:**

> ...Have fun...  
>  Disclaimer: I do not own... *cries*

Arthur was not angry, nor was he sad. He was fucking pissed. Not only had someone found the chamber, they had gone and killed the snake as well. His snake, the everlasting memory Arthur had of him.

-

Two boys sat by a river. They were around the age of nine. One was fair-haired and the other black. One had emerald green eyes whilst the other had pale blue. 

The forest around them was quiet, as if not wanting to disturb the silence the boys had brought. The boys were content in each other’s company.The river gurgled some distance away, and birds chirped merrily in the trees. The boys took no notice, remaining silent for the next minute or so.

Leaves danced between them, not by a breeze but by the boys themselves. They moved their fingers in time, causing the leaves to move as well.

“Are we strange?” the black- haired one asked.

“No.” The other replied, “We’re just different.”

“What are we?” 

Green eyes turned to look at the pale blue ones, who were staring, questions dancing beneath them.  
“We’re wizards.” 

-

It happened on a cold winter’s day. The fair- headed boy, who was now twelve, was brewing tea in a pot before a knock at the door brought him out of his silence.

The boy opened the doors, startled by the fact that his best friend was standing in front of him, shivering the cold, face wet with tears.  
“Salazar?”

“Apparently I’m not good enough.”

“What are you talking about?”

“They want a new son, one who doesn’t call himself a wizard…” The pale, blue eyes watered.

“But they are wizards as well, are they not?”

“No, they call themselves warlocks.”

There was a silence as the two boys sat on the floor.

Salazar spoke again, “Have you ever looked at the commoners, and wanted to join them?”

The other boy looked up, “Once or twice, why?”

“I’m lonely Arthur, the only person I have is you, and soon, you won’t be enough, I want to fall in love; get married; have kids, but I can’t do that locked away in the mansion my family made home. This may insult you, and I don’t intend it as such, but I can’t live life with only one person.”

Arthur nodded slowly, sadness clouding his face. He understood, as he was technically immortal after all.

The social status of the two boys is probably confusing you.

The Kirkland’s and the Slytherins were two of the riches families in England (in the Medieval times). Salazar was usually kept in his house, away from the ‘peasants’ as his parents called them. He was only allowed out to see Arthur, who willingly gave him a tour of the town.

The two were practically inseparable, which is why, on that cold, winter evening, Arthur helped his friend.  
For good or evil, both are still unsure.

-

It was the summer fair, the only time that rich and poor mingled together harmoniously. Ever since Salazar had come over, the boy was happier. But, Arthur could sense something was wrong. 

Salazar was also becoming distant.

Arthur watched from the sides as his friend danced with the girls of the village. He knew the Salazar was searching for the right one.

A witch, if possible.

“Good afternoon,” a voice greeted him.

Arthur spun round to see a beautiful girl with flowing black hair, her voice sounded like Allister, which made her Scottish. She smiled at him, but Arthur could tell she wanted something.

You don’t live for centuries without learning how to read people.

“What would you like to know?” he replied calmly.

The girl’s face became surprised, before her mask slipped back on.

“I would like to know what I am.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean,” she spat back.

Arthur glanced one more time at Salazar, before beckoning the girl to follow him. She stalked past him towards the woods, before tripping over her skirt.

“A lady should walk with grace,” Arthur dead-panned. 

“Shut up!” She muttered, dusting herself off.

“What’s your name, by the way?” Arthur asked.

“Rowena Ravenclaw,” the girl, now named Rowena replied. She stood by the river, watching the birds. Arthur sat down, legs tired from all the dancing and walking.

“What is that you would like to know?” Arthur questioned, lying down, considering the glaring sun and the clouds.

“I would like to know what I am,” Rowena said. She lay down next to him.

“I haven’t a clue of what you mean,” Arthur replied.

Rowena rolled her eyes. “I came all the way from Scotland as well, Arthur Kirkland, why can I do strange things.”

Arthur smirked, “How did you know me?”

“I’ve met your brother, I know what you are. Arthur Kirkland, also known as the black sheep of Europe.”

Arthur rolled over until he was facing her, “You are a witch.”

“I was afraid about that,” she murmured.

“Why?”

“My mother was one as well, my dad hates her. I can’t tell him.” She whispered.

“Then don’t,” Arthur said.

They lay by the river, staring at the clouds, until the sun began to set.

“I need to save my friend,” Arthur said, standing up.

“I’ll come to!” Rowena said happily.

Arthur nodded, walking off down the path, he, himself had helped carve. With Rowena next to him, Arthur strolled back through town, nodding his head in greeting to the people. 

At the centre of town, Salazar was drinking. He was drinking because he had seen Arthur leave with a girl.  
“That arse-hole,” he muttered, sipping his beer.

“Hey, Salazar?” Arthur said, coming up behind him.

“What?” he said gruffly.

“Can we talk to you?” 

Salazar turned around, coming face to face with Arthur and the girl he had left with.

“Sure.”

-

They were sixteen now. It was Arthur and Salazar once again. After explaining Rowena’s situation, Salazar agreed with Arthur’s thoughts.

Rowena had returned home, to her father. She was going to complete her education, do some more research about Scottish magic and the comeback a few years later.  
In the time she had left, Arthur and Salazar practiced their magic, even channelling it through sticks, creating wands.

Salazar had gone on a few dates as well, but none of the girls were to his standard.

“I don’t understand,” he muttered, “Was Rowena the only witch ever?”

Arthur snorted, “You’ll find someone, one day,” he said, patting his friend’s back.

“We’re going to London tomorrow, correct?” Salazar asked.

“Yes, I need to visit Gringotts! And, I need to visit the book shop…”

“I have no idea what you are talking about…”

Arthur just laughed.

-The Polish time skip of awesomeness-

The streets of London were busy, the people recovering from the plague staying inside. Between the age of 13 and 14, Arthur had gotten the full effects of the Black Death, multiplied by about a thousand. 

It was a miracle that he survived. But, the reasons are still unknown.

Arthur knew why.

But, he didn’t tell them.

Obviously.

They walked into a red- haired boy, who stumbled backwards and fell.

“Ow!” he yelled, drawing attention to himself.

“Bloody hell, tell the whole street, why don’t you!” Salazar exclaimed.

“Sorry,” the other muttered.

“Arthur Kirkland,” the country said, helping the boy up.

“Godric Gryffindor!” the boy smiled back.

“And, that,” Arthur said, gesturing towards the brooding Slytherin, “is Salazar Slytherin!”

“Cool!” Godric said, “Where are you guys from?”

“Well, we’re from the Eastern side of England!” The blonde supplied, helpfully.

“I’m from the West!” The ginger said, happily.

“What brings you to London?” Arthur asked.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you… but I’m looking for a wizarding bank…” Godric said, scratching his head.

“Oh,” there was an awkward silence.  
“Same!”

Godric brightened. “Great! Then you can show me where it is!”

“Don’t your parents know?” Salazar questioned.

“Well, they did, but… I kinda forgot!”

Salazar face-palmed whilst Arthur looked amused, “Good thing I know the way then!”

Godric bounced down the street next to the two others, he and Arthur got along well in the humour department, whilst Godric and Salazar shared similar interests.  
They turned down an alleyway, before arriving in a small street.

“This street isn’t visible to others!” Arthur exclaimed cheerfully.

Godric looked around in an awestruck fashion, before his eyes rested upon a pure white building, which was under renovations.

“Gringotts bank!” Arthur said proudly, “The safest place there is!”

Godric’s mouth formed an ‘o’ shape, and his eyes lit up. Salazar snorted.  
“Let’s get this over with.”

They walked up the marble staircase, opened the big oak doors, and walked into the entrance. The vast hall within was lit by a vast number of candles, adding to the light from the windows. The goblins sat in rows weighing, counting and stacking countless jewels and coins.

The three boys walked up to the goblin in the centre. He ignored them, opting towards counting coins. Instead of coughing, like the other visitors, Arthur slammed his hands onto the counter, upsetting the coins and the goblin.

“What?” The goblin said, angrily.

“These three vaults please!” Arthur said, passing him the three vault keys.

The goblin studied them for a moment, before his eyes widened.

“W-Who owns this key?” he said, holding up a golden key with a ruby hilt.

“That belongs to me,” Arthur said, pleasantly.

“R-Right,” he stuttered back, “Please f-follow me.”

The two other boys followed the blonde and slightly scared goblin to a chamber, leaving the other goblins in a stunned silence.They went through a shaft, the goblin enchanting a piece of rock to lower them down.

As the rock it the bottom with a loud thump, Godric spoke up, “How far down are we?”

The goblin turned, “We’re at the lowest level, the first ever vault.”

Salazar’s face became surprised, before quickly disappearing, whilst Godric openly stared round in awe.

“Who’s vault?” he asked excitedly.

“The blondie over there,” the goblin said, nodding in Arthur’s direction.

“WAH! Arthur! Really!”

“Yup.”

After visiting the vaults needed, the three boys wondered around the streets of London. Arthur had stopped off at a small bookshop, buying some books. Godric then went his separate way, waving wildly to them and crying fake tears.

Salazar and Arthur stopped off in an Inn (lol) that night.

The books Arthur had bought contain spells of a dark calibre, and not wanting to scare Godric, he had lied. Now he and Salazar were sitting beside the fire reading such books into the dead of night.

At around three in the morning, Salazar spoke up, “These spells are far more useful than any others!” 

Arthur hummed in response.

They lapsed back into a comfortable silence, the fire slowly dying.

They awoke again at around eight in the morning. They packed up their bags, and left without a sound.

-

Two eighteen-year-old boys stood at the edge of a river. They watched as the swallows swooped and dived, and as the otter lazed half-heartedly in the sun.

One boy smiled at the scene.

The other was deep in thought.

The first turned to the other, speaking quietly as too not disturb the creatures, “I got a letter from both Godric and Rowena…”

“Oh…” the other replied.

“They want to meet up and discuss the magic they have discovered.”

“Oh.”

The silence washed over them, once again.

“I want to travel…” Salazar said, glancing over at Arthur, “We could take Rowena and Godric with us, we could travel around Europe, researching; exploring; anything really…”

“I’d like that a lot…” Arthur murmured.

Salazar smiled at his friend, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

The next day, Arthur’s house was empty, the bar no longer held Salazar’s company and the whole village were unsure where the two boys had gone.  
They had gone to Wales.

Standing on a small hill, towards the entrance to her town, a noble girl stood staring over the tree line.

“Pardon Miss, but could you point out the direction to the nearby town?”

The girl turned around, coming face to face with two boys.

“Umm… that way…” She said, pointing down the hill.

“Thank you, my lady,” the blonde said, bowing.

“Arthur…” the other sighed.

The brunette giggled. 

The black haired gestured to the bowing blonde, “His name is Arthur Kirkland, whilst my name is Salazar Slytherin!”

“Helga Hufflepuff,” she curtsied.

The blonde straightened, smiling. “May you show us the way?”

“Sure!”

They walked down the hill, Arthur staring at the scenery, Salazar facing head on, and Helga watching the boys with amusement. They were strange. She could sense a familiar aura surrounding them, but couldn’t quite place it.

It was frustrating.

‘Kirkland? As in, brother of Dylan Kirkland (Wales)?’

They arrived at the village, when Arthur suddenly froze.

“We’re going to have to avoid the sixth house on the right,” he muttered.

“Why?” Helga asked, curious.

“My brother lives there, that twat…” Arthur mumbled again.

“You mean Dylan?” Helga wondered.

“You know him?” 

“Yeah, nice guy.”

“Not really…”

“Arthur and his family have had some disagreements.”

“Shut up!”

Helena giggled again. They walked through the town centre towards a large, white house.

“This is my house!” Helga said cheerfully.

“Lovely place,” Arthur said.

“ ‘course it is,” a voice said from behind, “It’s in my country.”

Arthur turned around. “Hello Dylan…”

“Arthur,” the other said.

Looking at them, it was easy to tell that the two Kirkland’s were related. They both had blonde hair, though Dylan’s was darker, and a pair of thick eyebrows on their forehead, although Arthur’s were thicker.

They both had green eyes and wore identical scowls on their faces.

Dylan broke eye contact with his brother, turning, instead, to Helga.

“Lady Helga,” he said, bowing, “I’m sorry you had to talk to my little brother, as he can be quite rude sometimes.”

“Twat!”

“It’s okay,” Helga said, wildly waving her hands, “They wanted to come here, I really don’t mind.”

Dylan glared at Arthur, before muttering in his ear, “Don’t tell them about your friends.”

“You’re still jealous,” Arthur hissed.

The other two watched the exchange in silence.

“I’ve never seen Arthur like this,” Salazar said.

“Nor Dylan,” Helga replied.

They sighed and waited for the two bickering brothers to cease their argument.

Suddenly, Helga remembered something.

“Excuse me, Salazar, are by any chance, a wizard?”

“Why yes, I am,” the black-haired wizard replied, “And Arthur is one as well.”

“Wow…”

“Are you a witch?” Salazar asked, curiously.

“Yes, I’m worried that I’m one of the only ones…”

“Parents?”

“My father is a wizard, my mum, not so much.”

“There is always Rowena!”

“Who?”

“A Scottish witch…”

“A Scottish witch!” Dylan exclaimed loudly.

“Yes, you wanker,” Arthur scowled.

“Does Allister know?”

“Course not, I don’t think so, anyway!”

“Wow, Arthur, aren’t you organised!”

“Sarcasm is my thing twat!”

The other two looked at each other and smiled. Turning around, Helga beckoned Salazar to follow, leaving the brothers to argue.

She led him to a bar in the town square, where the bartender smirked at them.

“See you got yourself another lover, Helga!”

Helga went red and looked away from Salazar, who was trying not to laugh.

They ordered drinks and sat in silence for a while.

“Can you control it?” Salazar said, suddenly.

“Most of the time,” she whispered back, “It goes out of control when I get angry though.”

“Ask Arthur, he taught me and the others how to control ours.”

“He seems like a nice guy, when he’s not sarcastic…”

“Ha… Well you’re going to hate him, he’s always sarcastic…”

Helga laughed. She waved her hand at the bar maid, who brought another drink for them.

She smirked, holding out her glass, “Cheers to Arthur’s sarcasm!”

-

They were drunk. And kissing.

Arthur had seen many things in his lifetime, but seeing Salazar kissing a girl roughly was really scarring.

“Artie~!” A drunk Helga called.

Arthur sighed. ‘Stupid Salazar…’ “Hello, Helga.”

Said girl giggled, “Salazar and I were discussing about building a magic school over a couple of drinks!”

‘A couple…’

“Salazar said you would help us!” she hiccupped, “You can’t say no either!”

“I hate you…” Arthur growled.

“Salazar said you were always sarcastic,” she said, trying to nod seriously. Arthur couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Okay then, I guess we’ll be building a school then!”

“Great!” she cheered, “you go tell those friends of yours, that Scottish one and the ginger, and I’ll go rip mister Slytherin over here of the girl!”

Arthur sighed, and started to write two letters, one to Rowena and the other to Godric.

Dear, Rowena/Godric,  
Salazar and a new friend of ours, named Helga, have decided to create a school to teach young wizards and witches the art of magic.  
If you would kindly meet us in London, at Gringotts bank, on the date, August 31st, the discussions, introductions, etc, can take place.  
Please reply quickly.  
Your sincerely,  
Arthur Kirkland.

Dear Arthur,  
This school idea is splendid, and I would be glad to partake in this endeavour. However, I do have a problem. How do I get to Gringotts?  
Yours,  
Rowena.

To the Artster,  
I would love to create a massive school to teach the kids. This Helga girl seems awesome. Can’t wait. See you at Gringotts!  
From,  
Godric.

-August 31st-

Arthur was pacing. He was panicking. He was going through with this idea, he couldn’t back down.

“Arthur! Stop pacing! It’s giving me a headache!” Helga cried.

Arthur sighed and stopped. “Sorry…”

“It’s fine. I know you’re nervous. But, don’t be! I should be the nervous one!” Helga said.

Salazar nodded in agreement.

“Arthur!” a voice called. Footsteps followed afterwards, revealing a shadow with flowing hair.

“Rowena,” Arthur greeted.

“Artie!” another voice yelled. A flash of ginger later, and Arthur was lying on the floor.

“Godric!” Salazar smiled.

“Hey Salazar! Who’s this!?!” Godric said, gesturing to Helga.

“This,” Arthur said, shoving Godric off, “Is Helga Hufflepuff.”

“Hello, Helga,” Rowena said, smiling.

“You must be Rowena! It is lovely to meet you,” Helga cheerfully smiled. The two girls started conversing about their magic, family and daily life, as the three boys started drawing up plans for the school.

“I say we make it a castle!” Godric said.

“If we make it a castle, won’t the non- magic folk want to visit?” Salazar queried.

“We really need a name for them…” Arthur said.

“Mud-blood?” Salazar said.

“That sounds racist (A/N- I know the concept of racism didn’t really exist back then.)” Arthur muttered.

“Mu… Mu… Muggle!” Godric declared.

“Okay, we’ll call them muggles,” Arthur said.

“Fine…” Salazar muttered.

“Where is this castle going to be located?” Arthur questioned.

“Wales!” Helga said.

“Yeah… No… Dylan wouldn’t allow that...” Arthur said.

“England?”

Arthur flinched.

“There’s a castle in Scotland that’s rubble, but all the material is there…” Rowena provided.

“We’ll use it!” Arthur said, he lowered his voice so the others wouldn’t hear, “With Allister’s permission…”

-

They stood at the base of the lake.

“Wow…”

“It’s beautiful!”

“Gorgeous.”

“Perfect!” 

‘Thanks Allister!’ 

“Right,” Arthur said, clapping his hands together, “Let’s get started.”

They started by levitating rocks and debris, repairing the walls, turrets and rooms. This took a few weeks, wearing them all out.

They stopped for week, spending it in a nearby town, getting ideas, drinking and getting to know the locals. 

The forest surrounding the castle was intriguing, especially for Godric, who dragged the others in with him.

“Come on! It’s not that scary!”

“I don’t know Godric, it’s really dark and spooky,” Helga whispered.

“No, it’s not!”

“Stop being an idiot.” Salazar muttered.

“You’re just mad, because I’m braver than you!” Godric yelled back.

“Bravery can also be stupidity,” Rowena said.

“I’m not stupid! Tell you what! I’ll take all the brave wizards and witches in my house, and I’ll show you that Gryffindors aren’t stupid!”

Rowena snorted, “I’ll take the wise ones, and I’ll show that you are stupid.”

“Wait… guys you can’t just say tha-” Helga stuttered.

“I’ll take the ambitious ones,” Salazar declared, “What about you Arthur?”

“I don’t want a house…” Arthur murmured. 

“I’ll take the others…” Helga said.

“Well that’s decided!” Godric said, walking towards the forest.

“Wait!” Rowena cried, “How are we going to sort them?”

“I’ll handle that,” Arthur said.

“Are you sure?” Salazar asked.

“Positive,” Arthur agreed seriously, “Now let’s go and explore that forest.”

-

That is why Arthur was now doing some complex dark magic to make a hat talk. This hat was going to be the school’s ‘sorting hat’ which would sort the students into the four houses:

Slytherin; for the cunning.

Gryffindor; for the brave.

Ravenclaw; for the wise.

Hufflepuff; for the kind/ the others.

“Oh lord, I’m a talking hat!” the hat exclaimed.

“Hello,” Arthur said kindly.

“No way, you’re the personified version of England!” the hat yelled.

“Why yes, I am, but you cannot tell anyone, okay?” Arthur said.

The hat made a noise of agreement. “Thank you.”

He sat the hat on the ground and opened another spell book. He started to carve ruins into the dirt around the hat before placing his hands on two of them, they started to glow purple.

The wind picked up, and the leaves blew around them.

Arthur started muttering rapidly under his breath, before everything went silent. The wind dropped and the ruins faded.

“What did you do to me?!?” the hat screeched.

“Oh, shut it, all I did was cast a spell so you could peer into peoples’ mind.”

The hat looked confused. Well, as confused as a hat could look.

“What?”

“My friends are setting up a school to teach young wizards and witches to control their magic, and I need you to sort the students… into the four houses. I don’t really want to explain it again…”

“Put me on, and show me memories of you explaining it,” the hat said.

Arthur nodded. He picked up the hat and placed it carefully on his head.

They two sat in silence, the hat going through Arthur’s memories and Arthur feeding the hat his memories.

“Hmm… interesting concept. If you were a student, I’d put you in Slytherin,” the hat said.

-

The castle was completed, the grounds swept and preserved, spells cast to conceal the castle and a new sport was invented.

Quidditch. 

This sport was invented by accident, when Arthur had bewitched a couple of brooms and then him and Salazar had started playing catch. Godric tackled the ball from them and threw it through a hoop that Rowena was putting up. Chasers and a keeper then became the first players in the sport.

Salazar had gotten mad, chasing the poor ginger around the grounds with a bat. Thus, beaters were created.

Helga had snuck behind Arthur, stealing his golden necklace. She had just added the last team player.

“This should be a sport,” Rowena laughed.

“I like that idea!” Arthur said back, “What should we call it?”

“Quit it! Quit it!” Godric yelled in the distance.

Helga sidled up beside them, “Is he saying Quidditch?”

“I guess we’re calling it that then!” Rowena exclaimed.

“Yeah, Quidditch…”

-

The school was opening this month, and the five founders stood nervous at the gates. They had gotten over twenty letters, requesting for places at the school.

They had all gotten in. They were all different ages, over the next few years, they would order the lessons in skill not in age, but afterwards the students would join the school once they turn eleven.

“They’re so cute!” Helga squealed, looking at the students around them.

“Calm down,” Salazar muttered.

“Well, welcome to, I’ve just realised we don’t have a name…” Godric addressed the hall. Laughter echoed through the hall.

“Guys, what’s the name?”

“HOGWARTS!” Helga declared loudly.

“Okay, the school is called, Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” Arthur said loudly. The new students laughed and started to clap loudly.

“Uh hmm.” Salazar cleared his throat, “There are for houses, one for each table,” he gestured to the tables, “From right to left it goes, Gryffindor; Ravenclaw; Hufflepuff and   
Slytherin.”

“But Sir!” a student said loudly, “How do we know what house we are in?”

“I was getting to that… we are going to use… a hat…” 

A stunned silence fell over the hall, broken by a girl we giggled, “A hat?”

“Yes, a hat. This hat.” Rowena said, bringing out a bedraggled hat. 

“Hello!” the hat said loudly.

“No way! It talks?” followed by another round of laughter.

“Yes, it talks, now LINE UP!” Godric yelled. The laughing students lined up, giving their name to Arthur before being sorted. The hat scared them when it appeared in their   
mind, but when it sorted them they calmed down.

-

They came from the north. Black, hooded creatures that suck the joy out of everything. The castle became gloomy, no-one doing anything.

It was depressing.

The students walked like ghosts. 

No talking.

No laughing.

No fun.

Godric refused to accept this. He decided to take it into his own hands.

The creatures floated around the grounds. The grass was frozen and the sky dark and stormy. Godric took a deep breath.

‘I can do this.’

He raised his wand. Shooting a beam of red light, but it had no effect. 

‘Shit…’

The creature came closer. Godric could feel his memories draining. Flashes of Helga and Rowena, dead, came through his mind. 

He drew in a breath, and reached out with invisible hands, grasping at his memories. He grabbed them all, pulling them back.

Suddenly, the warmth of his memories enveloped him. Godric could feel his strength returning. He felt a pure white energy race through his veins.

Hope.

He knew what he had to do.

He sucked in his breath, opened his eyes and shot a pure white spell at a creature. The creature flew away, as if stung, as the white light transformed into a lion. 

Rowena ran towards him.

“Godric!”

“Rowena! I know how to defeat them! Think of your happiest memory, and think ‘Expecto Patronum!’”

Rowena nodded. She closed her eyes, drew in a sharp breath and then raised her wand.

“Expecto Patronum!” She cried.

The exact same beam of white light shot from her wand, transforming into a raven.

Her eyes widened and her mouth formed an ‘o’ shape.

“So cool…”

The dementors, that’s what Godric was now calling them, were flying away, but there were too many for the two leaders.

From the corner of his eye, Godric saw Salazar sprint towards them. 

“How do we defeat them?”

“Think happy thoughts, and then say-” 

“Expecto Patronum!” Arthur cried, from behind. His magic was not as white, giving it a sinister look. It transformed into a unicorn.

“Yeah… that…”

Salazar smirked, “Expecto Patronum!”

Nothing happened.

“Try again,” Rowena encouraged.

Salazar nodded. “Expecto Patronum!” the beam of white-grey light shot from his wand. It slithered on the ground, taking the form of a snake. Only Arthur noticed that 

Salazar’s magic was the same shade as his, meaning that some dark magic resided inside.

The four founders directed their patronesses towards the dementors. Helga joined them, just as they began to tire. She directed her badger. 

Soon afterwards, all the dementors were gone. The happiness had returned.

“I guess we know what our house flags now!”

-

 

It had been twenty years after the opening of Hogwarts. Students came and went, a few coming back to join the teaching staff or submit books to the curriculum. Four out of five of the founders had gotten married, and Arthur was alone again. They still got together once a week, but the others had family to take care of.

They had all suggested that he found a partner, but being a country meant that you couldn’t really get married. They had also suggested that he made up with his   
brothers. 

He had scoffed at that, saying that neither they nor he wanted that. They hated eachother, and that was final.

Now Helga was on her death bed.

Arthur sat next to her, eyes wet with tears. Helga opened her eyes and weakly lifted her hand. She caressed his cheek. “Arthur…”

He looked up.

“What are you?” she asked softly.

“What do you mean?” he replied, stroking her hair. 

“You haven’t aged past twenty, and Salazar told us you fell ill with a full dose of the plague, times a hundred and recovered. Tell me, Arthur Kirkland, what are you?” Helga   
demanded.

“I am Arthur Kirkland, also known as the personified version of England. Telling you this, Dylan is Wales.” Arthur answered.

“Oh…” Helga coughed weakly, “Thank you for helping us, you didn’t have to help us…”

“I wanted to,” Arthur whispered, and when Helga didn’t reply, he knew.

She was dead.

The room filled with silence as shock overcame all other senses.

‘She’s dead? Dead? Dead? Deadeadeadeadeadeadeadeadead? Why? Whywhywhywhywhywhy? NO!’

Arthur cried. He screamed. But Helga still did not wake. Godric and Salazar had to drag him from the room. 

Arthur may be immortal, but he was not emotionless. This was why they didn’t get attached. 

Helga’s funeral was held the next day. Students came, ex-students came, even people from her town came. Dylan came.

“You got attached, didn’t you?” He had asked Arthur afterwards.

“So had you.” The Englishman replied.

“Not as much as you.”

Arthur didn’t say anything. “This is a onetime thing,” Dylan muttered, before wrapping Arthur into a slightly awkward hug.

They stood there for a few minutes, before Dylan released him, and left without a word.

-

It was Rowena’s turn this time. Two years after Helga, but unlike the her, Rowena’s was sudden and unexpected.

They had been having tea in the forest, watching the unicorns prancing around, when she coughed.

No-one minded at first. It was natural to cough once or twice.

She coughed again. 

And again.

Then she collapsed. 

She shuddered. Godric ran off towards the school, leaving Arthur and Salazar to save her.

Inside, Arthur was panicking. He couldn’t lose her as well. 

Blood frothed at Rowena’s lips, dribbling down her chin. Her blood coated their hands.

“We’re losing her Arthur…” Salazar whispered.

“Godric,” Arthur murmured, “Please hurry.”

“I’ll go and see what’s taking them so long, take care of her.”

“A-A-Arthur,” Rowena stuttered.

“I’m here,” he replied.

“T-Tell m-me.”

Arthur knew what she meant, Helga had asked the same thing.

“I’m immortal.”

She laughed, more blood spilling from her mouth, “T-Thought so… I-I guess that’s w-what happens w-when you’re a country… Right England?”

“No wonder your students are smart…”

Rowena smiled.

She closed her eyes.

And she died.

Arthur cried again.

His tears fell down his cheeks, choking him. He hated it. He hated being immortal, not being able to die with his friends.

There was a strangled scream from behind him. The others had returned.

“No! Nononononono! Rowena!” Godric cried.

“I’m sorry…” Arthur whispered.

“It’s not your fault,” Salazar said, wrapping Arthur into a hug.

Allister came to her funeral. Only for the drinks. 

That’s what he said, anyway.

“Since yer school is on ma t’rf, I should git some rights.” He said, drunk.

Allister was drunk. Like they say, as drunk as a skunk.

“Fine.” Arthur snarled back.

“Wanna git drunk?” Allister slurred.

“No thank you.” Arthur snapped.

“Your loss then…”

Arthur sighed.

-

Godric was found bleeding in the forest.

According to Arthur’s fairies, he’d gone to make arrangements with the centaurs about the boundaries of their territory. 

-The magical mint bunny flashback- - - - - -

Godric walked past his students, nodding his head in greeting. 

Some students had told him that centaurs had been coming onto the school grounds, so the mighty Gryffindor was going to a talk with them for endangering his students.

He stalked onto the grounds, cloak flapping in the wind.

The forest loomed in front of him, as dark and sinister as ever. The ominous feeling that said forest was emitting, made even the bravest of men shiver a bit.

Godric steeled himself. Arthur had gone in there many times and had come out unharmed, so why can’t he.

He took a wary step into the darkness, the mist surrounding him.

He drew his cloak around his shoulders. It was cold in the forest.

“Who goes there?!” a voice boomed from deep in the depths.

“I’m from the school outside the forest,” Godric replied.

“I see… why are you?” another voice asked.

Godric scowled, “I’m here to ask you to leave the forest (A/N- the forest isn’t forbidden yet…) You are endangering my students.”

 

“Never!” The figure stepped from the shadows, face contorted in fury.

‘Centaur?’ Godric’s mind screamed.

“You dare ask us centaurs, whom have lived in this forest for centuries, to leave? Preposterous! We would never leave. YOU LEAVE!” the centaur screeched. The hooves   
clopped forwards, and the centaur brought out a dagger.

“You will face our wrath…” 

Godric’s senses screamed to run, but it was too late. He was surrounded.

The centaur, Godric decided he was most likely the leader, leapt forward, dagger brandished in his hand.

Godric pulled out his wand, shooting spells wildly. He hit seven of the surrounding centaurs, creating a gap for him to run through.

He took it. 

He sprinted through the trees, the branches hitting him, roots tripping, but he still ran.

‘I should not have said that…’

A sharp pain wracked through his head, and stars filled his eyes. Godric stumbled and tripped, lying flat in his back.

A shadow loomed above him. A sharp glint forced Godric to shield his eyes. A dagger was pointed at his stomach.

‘Why there?’

“I want you to suffer.” The centaur hissed. He brought the dagger down into Godric’s torso. The repeated stabs, mixed with the terror for his students drove Godric over   
the edge.

He screamed. It rang through the forest, startling a flock of birds from their roost.

The echoing screams were followed by malicious laughter.

The centaur marched away, leaving Godric lying in a pool of his own blood…

-Welp Flashback is over!- - - - - - - - - - - - - 

“A-Artster…” Godric’s weak voice broke Arthur from his thoughts.

“Yeah…”

“Is it true… yo-you being a -c-country?”

“H-How?”

“R-Rowena…”

“Ah… yeah… it’s true…”

“I-It kin-kinda makes sense, y-ya know?”

“Ye-yeah…”

“Arthur” said man looked up in shock, Godric rarely calls him Arthur, “If I-I don’t m-make it, lo-look after my s-stu-students… please…”

“O-Ok” Arthur tried to choke back his sobs, but they kept on coming.

Soon, he was going to run out of tears.

He picked up the limp, broken body. 

It was a clear night, the stars were out, but the moon was red with the blood of a fallen hero who’d be remembered for years to come for all the things he’s done.

But tonight was dedicated to Arthur’s best friend.

-  
-

Salazar was the only one of the four to make it past sixty. Though this might have been because he had been tampering with black magic.

Arthur had walked in on him one day, as the black-haired Slytherin was researching immortality and how to create a Philosophers Stone.

Instead of yelling at him, Arthur sat down next to him, pointing out his mistakes in the texts. After a few hours, Salazar was shocked.

Arthur Kirkland.

Arthur Kirkland, the man who’d brought the four founders of Hogwarts together, had been using black magic for most of his life.

But now Slytherin could tell he was nearing the end. He’d overheard Arthur and Godric in the forest, and after getting over the initial shock that one of his best friends was   
immortal and a country; Salazar had dedicated the rest of his life in researching how this was possible.

But he couldn’t find anything.

So, as he lay dying, with Arthur by his side, he allowed himself to let it go. 

He weakly pushed a key into Arthur’s palm. He pointed at the chest at the end of his bed.

“Open it when I’m dead… okay… I understand…”

“Understand what?” Arthur asked, confused.

‘Dear Arthur,’ Salazar smiled, “Your secret…”

The last thing he saw before the darkness consumed him was Arthur’s eyes widening in surprise.

Arthur stared down at his dead friend, before letting his tears fall for hopefully the last time.

(*cough* American Independence *cough*)

He stood up slowly, stroking a stray hair from Salazar’s face. He glided over to the chest, sliding the key into the lock.

He opened it, and pulled out a piece of paper.

It read:  
Dear my dearest friend, Arthur,  
In all my years of living I had hoped to succeed you in death. But, with both know that wasn’t going to happen.  
I guess being a country has its ups and downs.  
Anyway, in this chest is my last gift to you.  
A basilisk egg, ready for you to love and raise, and yes, basilisks do live for many hundreds of years.  
I know losing friends can be tough, and I guess not being able to die with them is even tougher, so I hope that this basilisk can help you through this.  
With Love,  
Salazar.  
P.S- I built a chamber in the girls’ bathroom on the fifth floor to open it, use parsaltongue.

Arthur picked up the egg and cradled it in his arms.

‘Thanks Salazar…’

-

The countries allowed Arthur to get drunk on five days a year.

19th January – Helga’s death

15th May – Rowena’s death

4th July- America’s Independence Day

23rd September- Salazar’s death

9th November- Godric’s death.

On the date that Arthur got a letter from Scotland, telling him his snake had been killed, it had been 23rd September.

After he’d received the letter, which had taken a while to translate (since Scotland was drunk when he wrote it) Arthur had gotten on the first train to Scotland.

He had then climbed onto the back of a thestral; taking him to the Forbidden Forest, where’d he’d then proceeded to march straight into Hogwarts.

-

Harry was trying so hard not to fall asleep in History of Magic. But he couldn’t help it. 

Professor Binns had over run the class by 5 minutes.

10 minutes.

By 15, most of the class were packing up to leave, but still Professor Binns droned on.

Harry realised he had probably forgotten they were all there, seeing as the class were leaving.

Only Hermione remained.

“Come on, Hermione,” Ron muttered, dragging his bushy haired friend from the classroom.

“Ron!” Hermione squawked, trying to wriggle free, “Unhand me!”

But Ron would not yield. He marched her to the Great Hall, where she unwillingly settled down for lunch.

Just as the lunch chatter died down a bit, the Great Hall doors burst open, revealing a man in his twenties, with blonde hair, green eyes and the biggest pair of eyebrows   
anyone had ever seen.

The students looked at the teachers’ table, searching for an answer. But, ever the teachers were stumped.

Dumbledore stood up to say something, but before he could, the blonde man cut him off.

“WHICH ONE OF YOU WANKERS KILLED MY SNAKE!”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this, I'll be posting/ writing the sequel soon!!!


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